Running From Your Past
by Sanctum To The Sinner
Summary: Stiles, hurt badly, fled from the pack and Beacon Hills. Getting to college, he was starting an internship at Google. What's he going to do with his a disfunctional group, and a boy prying way too much into his personal life to be safe. Stiles(Stuart)xGraham
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Internship. *gets elbowed in gut* *grumbles* Or TeenWolf.**

Stiles sat gloomingly in the Google building, hoping that he wouldn't be picked by a group completely incompetent. Looking down at his phone, he bit back any emotion at the messages he recieved

_Scott: Dude when u coming back_

_Derek: Stiles we miss you_

_Erica: Where the fuck are you?_

_Lydia: Hey Stiles_

Choosing to ignore all but one message, he responded to the one person he still kept in contact with.

_Hey Lydia. Talk later k?_

Now pocketing his phone, he didn't wait for a response putting it on silent. Looking up, he was met with realisation that they were forming into groups already, and that the annoying teamwork speech had ended. Dammit. He would have to interact with people. As he was about to get up and make some sort of an attempt at forming a group, he was stopped by an arrogant voice.

"You. Beanie. You're coming with me." Looking over, he was met with a boy his age, probably a little older since he is eighteen and a little young for college. This guy was around his height, over confidence oozing out of his every pore. Oh no way in his life time was he ever going to be in that hellish group being formed. Attractive women and prestigious college students. He had had enough Jackson's and Jackson cliques for one life. And he certainly didn't want to be on a close basis with one.

"Uhm, no thanks." replied Stiles snarkily, pushing up his glasses on his face. The face in response was one of surprise, anger, and… amusement?

"You don't want to be on the same team as _me?_ I'm a genius!" he scoffed.

"That's what we're all here for, "genius", so don't think you're anything too special."

Finally resigning himself to Stile's decision, he flicked his eyes down, _what was he_ _looking at? Oh, name tag._

"You'll be seeing more of me…" his lips curled into a smirk "Stuart." despite the over all douche-ness, Stiles would admit, his name sounded _really_ good on the boys tongue. Oh, he should _not_ be thinking things like that. _Snap out of it Stiles._ Stiles thought, now coming back to himself and realising to his inner mortification that the boy-Graham it said on the nametag- was staring expectantly._ Nice job idiot._

"Hopefully not." he rudely supplied, watching in relief as Graham took this as a sign to walk away. _WINKING AT HIM_ as he walked away. What the fuck? That was weird, but Stiles chose to ignore it. Okay, that was enough interaction, he was gonna sit the fuck back down and wait for some sane people to find him, because obviously standing to mingle wasn't gonna work.

~~~First ever linebreak woot-woot~~~

After the crowd had cleared and formed definite groups, it became very clear to him that no sane people had found him. Oh god, was he going to have to socially put himself out there? That sounded like a nightmare to him, but to his luck (or possibly future dismay) there was a small scatter of people left without a group in the area. He was already prepared after noticing this for the leftover mentor, who yelled out: "Leftovers, come with me!" He swore out of the corner of his eye he could see a smug smirk of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it and kept walking. _Asshole.__  
_

_Well, this was already turning out to be _fantastic_._

_~~~StilesxGraham~~~_

Well, it turned out worse than he thought. One was fangirl pervert, the next a terrified self abusive momma's boy, and the other two completely incapable. Each team given the same task to complete, and see who could do it the quickest. The task was to determine an error in computer coding.

Naturally the team went to trying to develop a detection of the error, while the stupid ones just went back in forth throwing each other ideas that didn't even make sense. It reminded him of Scott and himself in their earlier days. _Dammit._

"Would you two just shut up and let the capable people have some peace?" That was probably uncalled for, but he was far too annoyed and pained by past memories to think of that right now. The boneless councelor looked as though he wanted to say something, but was soon interrupted by them half heartedly defending themselves. He rolled his eyes and went back to work. They finally managed to get somewhere, and were so close. But to their misfortune, they were stopped. Graham's team had found the error. _Great._

_~~~StilesxGraham~~~_

Plopping down in his bed in his college dorm (that he had managed to go roomate-less) he checked his phone inbox, and noticed three new texts. Fortunately all from Lydia. One confirming his messaging, another asking how his day was, a third inquiring how his day was. He typed back a reply that seemed to fit the last two messages.

_Stiles:Thank god I'm back at my dorm. I'm surrounded by crazies and idiots_

He soon received a reply.

_Lydia:Well, what's crawled up your ass? _

They simply started to go back an forth bantering.

_Lydia: I go to go, it's getting late. _And to his astonishment, it had been three hours since he had started texting Lydia.

_Stiles: Okay Goodnight._

_Lydia: Goodnight. Also, I'm going to have to tell the pack eventually that I'm talking with you. Please just let me. I miss you being around. We all do._

He only replied with a quick no, but in reality, he was longing to say, I miss you so much. But he refrained. A tear slid down his eye.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So just to make thing clear for those who don't get it, Stuart is what people officially call him now (Since in this his first name is Stuart not Genim), but since he is used to be referred to as Stiles, that is what he internalizes himself as. And his last name remains Stlinski of course :)

Anyway, so this was a request from Wolfgirl705, and I hope she likes it!

Have a rockin' day!

_-Sinner_

**Question Of The Day: do you guys have any story requests yourselves?**


	2. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**THIS IS AN AUTHOR NOTE. I'M REALLLLLLLLY SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN UPDATING! I really hope you can all forgive me, it's just things got a little rough lately. My (relatively young) pet died of cancer and a close family member just went bankrupt basically, so things have been a little more difficult lately. I get it if you guys hate me, and I'm REALLY REALLY sorry, I just hope that you haven't lost faith. It's just alot on my plate. I will be updating this week, and can only hope you can find forgiveness.**

**Dearest apologies,**

_-Sinner_


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teenwolf. Or The Internship.**

* * *

A day passed, now they were preparing for their next challenge. A… Quidditch match? Though Stiles found this to be strange, he decided not to question it, being a 'Noogler' (he still found the term ridiculous.) and not wanting to deter his chances at the internship, he thought it only safe that he kept quiet. Plus, strange or not, this was freakin' cool! What other chance would Stiles get to watch a live Quidditch game? Graham however, felt the need to constantly speak of how above this "trivial" activity. Stiles wished he hadn't noticed, but for some unexplainable reason the voice kept him on high alett, seemed to captivate his attention like a planet in orbit. Fighting the urge to turn and look to the face that voice belonged to, he chimed himself into his team's speech right as it was ending. Quite touching he was sure, but he had long since stopped listening to the charisma and enthusiasm people exuded, it's only given him loss in life.

Finally hearing the two bumbling men shout some sort of touching ending, he knew it was time to get ready. Strapping up in knee pads and getting his broom in place (Really? Stiles couldn't tell if he was impressed or not.) he turned to face the enemy. If he could handle a pack of angry wolves, he could handle a pack of populars playing Quidditch.

Then with the blow of a whistle, the game was started. They all rushed into action (Where Stiles decided in favor to text Lydia when he saw how terrible the team already was.) and they ran back and forth, getting the ball into the goal almost never, easily being triumphed. Stiles snorted and turned back to his screen, dissapointed in the quality of the game.

_L:So, how was your day?_

Well he couldn't just tell her "Well, I'm playing Qudditch and texting you during the game." He knew that would give him only one thing: the infamous Lydia text sassing, one of which he hopefully never would receive. Past crush or not, the woman was the goddess of text, able to easily strike fear and awe into all and any. Deciding to filter out a little information, he typed up a quick response.

_S:Okay. Better now that you're here ;) _It never hurt to flatter a little. Atleast, not with Lydia.

_L:Thanks._ Well that was a surprisingly short response for her. Normally she would soak comments that up. As usual they went on like that, talking even as his team failed miserably. But her comments seemed sweeter, missing their usual bite.

_L:Uhmm, Stiles?_

_S:Yeah?_

_L:I haven't actually been talking to you today. Someone else has been on my phone. _Stiles felt his his stomach drop, and he almost let go of the phone in his shock.

_S:Well if it hasn't been you talking, who_ _has been talking to me?_

_L:Scott. Scott's been talking to you._

And that was the moment Stiles' world went black.

~StilesxGraham~

Waking up in strange places was something he was used to, but waking up to a british voice? Was he in England? Pulling up his pale lids, he was surprised by what he saw. There was Graham standing above him, barking out orders to get nurses and doctors, which was the moment he realized he was still on the Quidditch field. Standing up dazedly, (Not before picking up his phone, thank god it was safe.) he stumbled right into the arms of Nick.

"Dude, are you, like, okay?" Ignoring the concerned face he pushed out of the light grip.

"I'm fine. Let's get back to the game." he snapped out shortly, and was turning to the field again when a strong grip had him by the upper arm.

"You will be going to the infirmary now, as you most certainly are not fine." the aristocratic boy tugged just as Stiles did the same, causing him to become completely disoriented and land directly into the smug boys arms.

"Fine?" He inquired arrogantly, and all Stiles could muster was a hollow glare of defeat. Trying to extract himself from the tan arms (to no avail.) he replied exasperatredly,

"Let's just go." If Stiles had been looking, he knew he would've seen the boy grin in triumph.

~StilesxGraham~

The nurse cleared him off with a 'just fine' condition, and just as he was about to sit up off the infirmary bed, a hand at his chest stopped him. A hand that had led him here in the first place. _Oh just **great**. _With an accusatory glance, the handsy boy started his interrogation.

"What just happened back there?" His crisp voice cut through the sound of other activities atound the building. _Deflect, deflect, deflect._

"The nurse gave me a clean bill of health Einstien, don't you remember?" Stiles then let out a mock gasp, "Unless… you have amnesia!" This only seemed to result in the other boy's increasing anger. Anger that was all to familiar to Stiles_… No, don't think about that! _The moled boy internally chided, snapping out of his head back into the matter at hand. Graham was now pacing back and forth around the bed.

"There's something about you… something you're hiding." Fear and anxiousness flickered across his face before he could ever stop it, and just as quick he pulled back into his mask of indifference, but it didn't go unnoticed. _Keep it smooth Stilinski_

"What are you talking about? I'm an open book!" He snarked, spreading his arms to the sides of himself. The dark haired boy now gave his trademark smirk.

"I will find out what you're hiding, like it or not." And with that he left, the last sign of him being the feeling of the boys hand that lingered on Stiles body, intentionally grazing arms and legs even as he walked away. And Stiles just sat there now, wondering what to do next.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I really don't have much to say, so have a rockin' day!

_-Sinner_

**Question Of The Day: Do you want them to finish the match? OR, I make up a new activity as a make up for quidditch!**


End file.
